Islands Of Nature

They harbour a diversity of life equalled only by the ‘Great Barrier Reef’, they’ve witnessed the atrocious over-acting of Russell Crowe as both a Master and Commander; and they provided a young Charles Darwin, with the help of some finches, with enough inspiration to scare the shit out the Catholic Church: this month’s lucky travel hot-spot are the islands which comprise ‘the Galapagos Islands!’
I have a very short attention span, so short that even then, midway through the word ‘span’, I was already bored of writing and had begun to login to Facebook, in search of the natural high which only a ‘notification’ flag, teeming with all its red-y goodness, can provide. The prospect, therefore, of spending an afternoon on an island staring at giant tortoises, which were in fact so giant and so old simply because they did so little, seemed unbearable. But it got worse. I wouldn’t be watching them on one island, but thirteen, and not for one afternoon, but for two weeks! Over three hundred hours watching tortoise masticating, fornicating and defecating in thirteen ever-so-slightly different environments: it was no wonder Darwin called the Galapagos ‘Hell’s Garden’. “It sounds Galapa-bogus to me!” I cried to my family in disdain, pleased with my literary pun – but how wrong I was.
Arriving at the Galapagos, you land in an old US Airbase used during the Second World War. It now caters to the seventy thousand tourists the Galapagos archipelago receives each year. From there, the real experience begins. Whilst the islands do have an indigenous population of sixteen thousand people, the settled area takes up less than 3% of the islands’ total landmass – leaving much to be explored!
The islands really appeal to the foolhardily adventurous or the fabulously wealthy – I contently sat firmly in the former group – but the appeal really derives from the exclusivity of the islands. Not more than five vessels carrying tourists are permitted into neighbouring waters, all others; fishing boats, transport ships, pedalos, Somaliland Pirates etc, are banned. This limited human interference has allowed the flora and fauna to thrive.
Certain species of animal are endemic to the Galapagos, such as sea iguanas and a species of penguin, the only one to be found in tropical waters. The animal wildlife and the myriad diversity of species are, however, inexhaustible. Visiting the islands, tourists are privy to experience swimming with hammerhead sharks, sun fish and tortoise (hooray!), as well as observing albatross, frigate nests and having the incredibly inquisitive species of blue-footed bird, the ‘boobie’, bound up to them, tantalizingly resting within arm’s reach, and posing for photos whilst gently swaying from side to side.
If you have an overwhelming desire to remind anyone left behind in holly-jolly-Hull just how worthless their lives are in comparison with yours whilst at the Galapagos, the islands can cater for you! Whilst it is essentially a decrepit bucket, the islands have their own unique postal service. Instigated by the whaler, James Colnett, in 1793, you can drop in a post card whilst pilfering through those already in there, if one is addressed to an area near where you live, you pack it up, fly home with it, and drop it off when you arrive.
Always the cynic, I failed to believe the efficiency of this rotting barrel and left a little note attached to my card saying that I’d buy my courier, on his delivery, a pint. I was seventeen at the time but allowed the mail a few months to be delivered. It was received four days later. Before even I was home. It would have taken longer if I had sent it through the Royal Mail.
Undoubtedly, the Galapagos are fantastic. Even if you can’t get there, at least spend the rest of your life writhing in envy and agonising yearning – there’s a reason the islands always appear in these ridiculous books; ‘100 Places To See Before You Die’; ’10 Things To Do Before You’re 40’; ‘19 Things To Do Before You’re Too Fat, Ugly And Broke To Bother’. Like every L’Oreal model – they’re worth it.

Dom Fogg